


An Apology

by magickbeing



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, M/M, Smut, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickbeing/pseuds/magickbeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They kiss and touch and breathe each other in, reacquainting themselves with one another, and when they're tangled up and their hands stutter against sweat-glossed skin in the afterglow of their love making, they talk. He compares them to a volcano and the sometimes cold calm after a storm and he's never been a poet — he's always been more logic than emotion, or at least that's what he has always told himself — but he can still find a twisted sort of beauty in their destruction now that he knows there is healing in their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Apology

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not entirely sure what this is. I had this steamy (and somewhat angsty) idea of Derek's first time bottoming in my head... and this is what happened?
> 
> I sort of want to be WAY more descriptive with their first successful attempt switching things up but the styles of writing were too much of a contrast to fit into one story.
> 
> Maybe, if I get enough encouragement and therefore motivation, I'll zero in on that event and write a more descriptive, smutty drabble?

It's Derek that approaches the subject of switching things up in the bedroom — Derek that initiates the conversation, Derek that shows an interest first. Spencer is torn. The idea definitely has its appeal. Derek always makes him feel so _good_ , the idea of turning that around and focusing on him... it sends heat and arousal crashing through his stomach. But it has an obvious downside, too, and Derek's past is in the forefront of Spencer's mind and it's backwards — it really is. _Derek_ is the one that had been sexually abused and yet _Spencer_ is the one fixating on it.

He turns to what he knows.

Books.

Knowledge.

Psychology.

Derek tries to be understanding. He seems to know it's something that they _both_ need to want for it to go over smoothly and without a hitch.

It's only when he finds Spencer curled up in the living room at three in the morning reading a book about _Helping Your Partner Cope with Trauma_ that his irritation overcomes his desire to just understand.

It starts as a conversation and escalates into yelling and it's the first time since they've started dating that Derek has yelled at him. Some of the highlights are _don't you dare profile me_ and _I'm not a victim_. What it ends with is far less angry — far less sad, too.

It ends with the pair of them tangled together on the couch, Spencer's book — and those piled near said couch — cast to the side. Spencer's lips are an apology against his skin and Derek traces similar words, albeit silently, against his own.

Nearly two weeks pass before the conversation is broached again.

Derek tries to be understanding. _Again._ And Spencer tries to get himself out of his head, tries to be honest and equally understanding, and it's when Derek reminds him that he's not a victim or at least not _just_ a victim, but rather, Spencer's partner — his friend and lover — and that there's nothing unhealthy with wanting to move past his abuse (although he doesn't use that word — no, he rarely ever uses that word when referring to himself), that Spencer fully realizes this is something Derek needs. He's trying to move past it, wants — _needs_ to move past it, and this is something only Spencer can help with — something he's _trusting_ Spencer to help with. Spencer can't say no, not then, and honestly, he doesn't want to.

He knows, logically, that he can't take those memories away. He can't change the past. But he can make the future better and offer good memories to soften the weight of the bad.

His touch is certain but gentle when they fall into bed and he thinks he's doing everything right.

He maintains eye-contact and takes it slow, murmuring words of encouragement and praise as he prepares his lover. Derek seems to be into it — _he's definitely aroused_ — and the small hums of pleasure that reverberate through his body encourage Spencer's touch. Spencer knows choice and control are important then and encourages Derek to take what he needs; he encourages Derek to ride him, to be in control of his own movements and without the pressure of his hands bearing down on his hips.

Derek straddles him and moves to do just that, his own hands flat against Spencer's chest, and then there's a white-wash of pleasure as his lover begins to bear down on him, his body tight around his cock and _God this feels brilliant_ and he definitely enjoys Derek taking him but _this_ feels good too and — _and_ — Derek is still.

He's still and his eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is uneven and he's not doing well at all, _not at all,_ and the cut of instinct through his pleasure demands he comforts his lover.

He tries not to jostle him too much as he shifts to stroke his sides and then Derek is tearing himself away and falling to the bed beside him, body coiled and tense and his breathing is loud and trembling as he tries to stave off an attack.

Spencer doesn't know what to do.

His touch seems to draw the tension in waves up Derek's form, seems to force him further in on himself, and so he forces distance between them in the form of air and swallowed reassurances. His heart is tight in his chest and he's finding it difficult to breathe himself because _he fucked this up, he fucked something up and now Derek is in pain and it's his fault, all of his fault and_ — no. He can't be that selfish, not then. He needs to stop thinking about himself and instead focus on Derek and he tries cataloging every bit of psychology he knows into easily accessible compartments until he can find something that helps — _something has to help_ — but nothing comes to mind _because every person is different_ and then Derek is reaching blindly for his hand.

Spencer obliges and his fingers wrap around his.

Derek is in his arms mere moments later and he's still trembling but his breathing has evened and Spencer knows he's trying not to cry as he buries his face against the hollows of his collarbone. Spencer smooths a hand down his back and presses kisses to his forehead and holds him, his lips an apology against his skin.

The following days pass with little mention of the incident.

Spencer thinks they should talk about it. No, he _knows_ they should talk about it because he knows Derek isn't processing it. _He won't process it unless he's made to_ because that's how Derek's defensive system works but every time Spencer tries broaching the subject, he's quickly shut down. He almost feels as if _he_ abused him too, as if he's as bad as Buford and he knows that's not true but he can't help but feel like it is and _the one person that can comfort him_ , that can set those fears to rest, is trying to swallow his own tongue on the matter.

They barely touch.

There's distance in their bed and what is first a bridge of air feels like an entire continent two weeks in.

Spencer worries they won't make it through this and the idea of losing Derek sends ice shooting through his veins and electricity into his chest-cavity to make his heart convulse and lungs seize.

Derek is out jogging when Spencer breaks.

It starts with a sweep of his hand across the bedside table, alarm clock and books clattering to the floor — escalates into his hands wound in tight fists against his forehead and a familiar itch along his skin. He turns his anger into his pillows, punching and squeezing and finally throwing, and then he's curling in on himself and trying not to give in and he swears Derek conjures himself out of thin air because then there are two strong arms around his form drawing him close. Kisses are pressed to his hair and a hand runs along the angles of his body, fingers skipping over every notch of bone available.

Spencer tries not to cry as he tucks his face in the hollows of Derek's collarbone and Derek's lips are an apology on his skin.

They kiss and touch and breathe each other in, reacquainting themselves with one another, and when they're tangled up and their hands stutter against sweat-glossed skin in the afterglow of their love making, they talk. Derek _finally_ begins to process it and Spencer knows, in hindsight, that it had been inevitable. He compares them to a volcano and the sometimes cold calm after a storm and he's never been a poet — he's always been more logic than emotion, or at least that's what he has always told himself — but he can still find a twisted sort of beauty in their destruction now that he knows there is healing in their future.

It's with a considerable amount of coaxing that Derek convinces Spencer to try again.

Spencer is afraid that Derek will withdraw again and is comforted not by false promises of _I won't do that again, pretty boy_ but by the reality of _and even if I do, I'll always come back to you_ because he knows it to be more true than not. Derek will always come back to him, even if hours feel like days and days feel like an eternity, and Spencer will always wait.

He agrees to try again because he knows that, despite the unexpected twists and turns of their endeavor, their original reasoning holds true; this is something Derek wants and therefore something he needs to work on — through — past.

He doesn't encourage Derek in the same way as before. No. He offers praise, yes, and encouragement in the form of _you're doing so great, baby_ and _I'm right here, Derek, you're okay_ and there's the occasional grunt of protest because _I'm not that fragile, Spencer_ but Derek doesn't otherwise object to the tender treatment. But as far as encouragement goes, that's the extent of it; he lets Derek chose the _when_ and _how_ and prepares him as instructed. He swallows down statistics and advice when Derek says he wants to be on his back with his legs spread. They both know it might hurt more but Derek trusts Spencer and Spencer tries to trust not only Derek but himself.

He presses into him slowly and Derek's hands are against his back and Spencer is hyper-aware of each noise that falls from his lover's mouth. There's no white-wash of pleasure this time. He's too focused on Derek's well being to really notice the pleasure coursing through his own veins.

They have two safe-words.

The first is 'red' and that means _stop_.

The second is 'blue' and is Derek's idea and means _keep going_. 

Spencer doesn't quite see the point in the second. Safe-words are meant as a safety feature to short-circuit and reroute distractions, to pull the other party from their pleasure and let them know that their partner isn't okay. Why do they need a safe-word that does the opposite?

But it's after Spencer is fully sheathed and refusing to move because Derek's breath just hitched and _God, did he fuck up again?_ and Derek assures him he's okay only to be ignored that Spencer understands. Because then Derek is breathing out a single word that somehow manages to calm the turmoil in his stomach.

_Blue._

It's muttered against the cut of his jaw, not once, but twice.

“Blue, Spencer.”

The words are rough and full of arousal and smoke and Spencer realizes that the second word is for him, not Derek, and there's a rush of gratitude because maybe Derek isn't the only one that needs to process things. He realizes that  _blue_ means more than  _keep going._ It means _I'm here_ and _I'm safe_ and _I know it's you, I'm okay._ It means _I'm fine and I love you_ and maybe Derek isn't the only one that needs praise.

Derek's hands are against his lower back and Spencer's hips tentatively stir against his.

The noise that leaves Derek after Spencer's first thrust is pure heaven.

His lips find his and the kiss is slow and sweet and fast-building. Soon he finds a steady rhythm that seems to work Derek in somewhat of a frenzy, his nails dragging down his back and his teeth grazing his skin. Derek is usually somewhat quiet during love-making and this is of little exception, although the noises that do fall seem somewhat louder than usual. His thrusts turn shallow as he targets Derek's prostate and his hand weaves between their bodies to wrap around Derek's leaking cock.

Derek arches beneath him and that moan is definitely louder; Spencer tries repeating the action that drew it from him as many times as he can.

Spencer whimpers, worried that he won't be able to last long enough as Derek's hips work up and into his to quicken the pace again — he can already feel the heat tightening in his stomach and pressing down in anticipation — but Derek refuses to let him slow his pace.

His words are fire against his eardrums, encouragement of: “Come on, Spencer. Come for me, baby... fill me up —“

And Spencer's hand is tight around Derek's cock as his own body begins to spasm under the weight of his orgasm. His movements are jerky and inconsistent but then Derek is coming anyway, his hot release splattering between their bodies.

They deflate against each other.

Moments drag by and then Spencer is shifting to withdraw and clean him up — aftercare is important, no matter how well things went, and forewarned is forearmed and there's a thermos of hot water on their bedside table, as well as a washcloth. The cloth is rough against Derek's skin as Spencer sets about cleaning him up and reassuring him with his touch and there's a smile in his eyes when the washcloth is discarded and Spencer settles against him.

Derek draws him close, wrapping himself around him, and kisses his hair, and Spencer's own mouth spreads into a wide grin when their lips meet. The kisses that pass between them consist of laughter and smiling and pure affection and warmth blossoms in Spencer's chest with the realization that apologies are no longer needed. Not then.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah... again, if I get enough encouragement and therefore motivation, I'll write a more descriptive and smutty one-shot of their first (successful) time with Derek bottoming.
> 
> PS: I'm still working on the next part of the Used series. Smut tends to get out of hand with me sometimes, though.


End file.
